


Give Her a Hand Folks

by memyself



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Very VERY light ship, i recommend criticism, im ready, just tell me im terrible, you can read it platonically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memyself/pseuds/memyself
Summary: Fiddleford is a good friend who emotionally supports his buddy.Let's all pretend the Hand Witch has a journal entry and you can take a drink every time you hear the word 'hand





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prepare for the worst thing every committed to fic  
> There should be an archive warning for There's a Musical Number

'A slight detour' that's what Stanford had called this freezing, windswept trek to the top of one of Gravity Fall's tallest mountains. If Fiddleford thought the jagged rock face looked perilous from afar, he was sure to find the steep cliffs lining their winding path all the more treacherous. The howling wind picks up as they near a long flat outcropping and with a flick through his leather bound journal Stanford said, "That's not the wind Fiddleford, that's the witch" He points toward a shadowy patch, leading them close enough to see the mouth of a pitch black cave. From within the stone cavern, he can hear a long whining cry, fuelling the churning storm clouds above them, with a scream the wind sweeps in behind them, pushing the scientists deeper and deeper into the darkness. 

"Ford?" Fiddleford stumbles to a halt, his arm waves out to the left where his friend was last beside him, "Ford?" his whispers hisses and echoes in the new unnerving silence. With the flick of a flame, a haggard old woman appears shawled in a worn brown sack "Two handsome travelers have fallen into my mitts" She bursts into a fit of cackling laughter, "Mitts, you get it? It's funny because I'm the Hand Witch"   
"The Hand Witch?" Stanford and Fiddleford ask in tandem, looking to each other in confusion.   
"Yes?" She answers, nonchalantly exchanging her candle to an outstretched hand on the wall. The dislocated limb moves, seemingly alive and Fiddleford feels a chill rattle through him as he tucks his hands beneath his crossed arms.   
"Extraordinary!" Stanford mumbles to himself to scribble into his field work journal, "Can you tell us about the-" A finger is placed to his lips, belonging to one of the Hand Witches many minions. As he fights it off she cries, "Before I hear your business, you must listen to my plea!" 

The room begins to transform. A glittering candelabra descends from the mud ceiling as a sleek grand piano materializes from the wall and with a few spare hands lining the keys, the Hand Witch begins her song,   
“I have so many travelers pass through my door  
All ranting and raving and wanting for more   
What can I say, You’re sure to draw a crowd   
When you are offering handfuls of magical poo-wer.” Stanford snaps his journal closed to pinch his brow mumbling, “Not again.”  
“They. Call. Me theeee- Hand Witch!   
Sure to offer a hand, Witch  
Many hands make light work, Pft   
They gawk and applaud   
If only they knew which, of my marvelous hands were which   
Then they would be rich and HA! I would be cured.” 

Fiddleford listens carefully to the song and thinks. This isn't their first riddle to be solved, and the answer seems so sure to him he snaps his fingers and turns to his friend mid-song to say, “Stanford this is perfect! All you have to do is give her your hands; we’re sure to find them amongst this crowd.” Defensively Stanford argues,  
“Why not your hands! Didn't you keep your wedding ring?” The Hand Witch slides over to warn them,  
“No jewelry, tattoos or birthmarks allowed. Read the small print. AS FOR THE-” swinging back into song, after a beat Stanford looks up from his hands to ask,  
“Can I change them?” 

Stunned, Fiddleford feels his stomach drop through his shoes, and his friend is so sure of his proposal? Stanford even nods when the Hand Witch begins to prattle on about terms and services such as, “Allowances for the exchanging and transference of hands is contracted under-” Fiddleford has to cut her off to shout,  
“Woah-woah-woah hold your hand horses here! He doesn’t mean that. It was a joke, right Ford?” Confused as his friend looks away, he can't hold his tongue any longer, “B-but you draw with those hands? You create law defying machines with *those* hands. When I feel your hand on my shoulder, I know nothing in the world could hurt me and … I never thought…” He looks down at those twelve fingers balled into fists, realizing his ignorance. After all those stories Stanford told him, all the times he wished for a normal life, completely unaware that Fiddleford hid his abnormalities all this time.   
He knows what he must do. 

“Hey Hand-Mam" He turns to the witch, "You got any new eyes?”   
“What am I the eye witch?” With that, Fiddleford took off his glasses, twisting the thin wire till the cheap metal gives out. “Don’t-!” Stanford reaches out as the glasses are discarded to the floor, in horror he looks up at Fiddleford to see the true extent of his 'lazy' eyes. Despite knowing how disjointed and cross-eyed he must look, Fiddleford strikes a confident pose. Slightly taken aback the Hand Witch asks, “Eh- How much can you see without those?”   
“Little to nothing” Fiddleford admits but keeps up his victorious stance regardless. 

Likely he’s paranoid, but he can feel Stanford eyeballing him something fierce so with a sharp tone he said, “What? S'not the first time I nearly went blind trying to prove my point.”   
“No, right, yeah, uh-huh it’s just - I have a thing for blue eyes so…” It sounds like the blurry face beside him is smiling, so there’s something to put a flush to his cheeks. With dawning realization, the Hand Witch asks,  
“You- you two are… Oh, come on!” She throws her hands in the air and the disjointed limbs around them jump, scurrying hide in dark crevasses of the walls. She rants and raves her way into the darkness, leaving to adventurers stranded in the dark.   
“Come on Fiddleford” Stanford spends a moment feeling around for his friends glasses before taking his hand to guide him towards the light of the caves entrance, “I think we have enough journal material for now.” He keeps leading the way, finding some white tape from his pocket to patch up McGucket's glasses. 

It's a long peaceful walk down the mountainside as the men chat.   
“So…” Fiddleford kicks the conversation off, “D'you get a lotta singers?”  
“You have no idea! Too many to count. Nothing quite matches the multibear acapella group.” Stanford continues working on his sketches.   
“I’m going to have that stupid Hand Witch jingle in my head all day.”   
Ford snorts a laugh to say, “I can go a whole week without hearing that name again.”

**Author's Note:**

> god bless you  
> Please send all your grievances to memyselfandyoutube.tumblr.com I'll be handing out refunds for your time


End file.
